54. Was That Me?

The ███████ withdraws its tendril from my mind, and I fall back onto my butt to scramble backwards away from it. What is this? What’s happening? Where am I?

[Analysis complete.]

[Corruption of local thread confirmed.]

[Chance of damage to curated probability field: 100%]

[Deconstructing latent space.]

Its dizzying form is replaced by a strange incomprehensible static. It’s not that I can’t see it, but my mind refuses to hold on to the image, slipping through my fingers like fine sand.

As I try to get away, my hand lands on something smooth and slips as the object rolls beneath it. A candle?

Rough, uneven brickwork, candles everywhere, a dull orange glow filling the space.

No. No no no no no! This can’t be happening. I can’t be back here again! We left! We got out! We’re safe now! This never happened!

The static spreads out from the ███████, like some kind of infection, tearing apart the fabric of reality piece by piece. It hurts to look at, but no matter how I turn my head or close my eyes, my vision doesn’t change.

Hm? What’s happening here?

Her presence fills the empty space, and the pain recedes a little bit. She looks around, a small frown forming on Her featureless face.

[A false memory? This possibility shouldn’t exist anymore.]

Even with the static gone, I can’t make sense of Her. It’s as though She has no shape and every shape. It doesn’t hurt to look at, but the more I think about it—

[Ah ah, don’t do that. You aren’t supposed to be remembering this.]

I don’t understand, but Her attention on me is overwhelming. A stifling weight that scatters any attempt at rational thought.

[Apologies, but it’s for your own safety. This meddling was rather messily done. Not little brother’s work, and our sister should know better. Is this an attack, or did they think the dream would be safe?]

What’s happening? I open my mouth to ask, but no sound comes out. I realize that the spread never stopped, it was just replaced by Her. The stones are gone, the candles are gone, I’m gone. All that’s left is Her.

[Aha! Here it is. Someone tried to fix you—Mother save me from helpful mortals. You’re nowhere near ready for this yet.]

Suddenly the world snaps back into focus, and I’m back in the stone room, surrounded by candles. The angel lies motionless on the floor, its infinite tendrils scattered in every direction. I don’t see Her anymore, but I know that She is still here.

There we are. All better! Cleaning up the damage is going to be quite the chore, though. I don’t suppose I can convince you that this was all just a bad dream, can I?

A dream? Now that She mentions it, I’ve been having a lot of strange ones, ever since waking—

* * *

I jolt awake so hard it hurts, drenched in sweat as my heart pounds painfully in my chest. The afternoon sun fills the room with light, pouring in from the window. With trembling hands, I cast aside our sheet and count the familiar objects in the room. Our bed, comfortable and soft—the downy mattress that’s been our companion for the last few weeks. We overslept.

A small table in the middle of the room, low to the ground like most furniture, with every inch of space covered by paper, pencils, and ink pots—Vi and Maggie’s notes alongside Allie and Evelyn’s schoolwork. Atop the pile, the test from last night still rests, with Evelyn’s one hundred percent grade circled proudly.

My breathing returns to normal, but I’m still shaking. I look for other things to continue the ritual. There’s a wardrobe where we keep our clothes—most of them gifted by Rara or scavenged from Kiera after we—

My breath catches in my throat as I miss a beat. No. Moving on.

There’s something else on the table, and I almost missed it. Violet’s puzzle cube. Currently in a solved state, since she doesn’t like to leave it shuffled. It’s neater that way. A comforting little island of order that stands out against the chaotic mess of papers that rule the makeshift desk. What else?

A vanity. Not quite the type we’re used to, but it’s close enough and serves the same purpose. A stool, some cabinets, and a full length mirror to serve as our personal grooming station. We haven’t gotten our hands on any makeup yet, but that’s where we keep a hairbrush, our nail clippers—a gift from Sszlaw and their husband Ssri—and some little paintbrushes to apply the nail gloss we used during the party.

I touch each item as I go, almost just to prove that they are real. Allison has stuck a piece of paper to the mirror—a shopping list, or perhaps more of a wishlist of things she wants to add to the vanity.

Makeup. Foundation and mascara might be hopeless, but lipstick and eyeliner should be on the table. Just need to find something safe to use on my face.

Shaving razors. Touchy subject, apparently, so I’m not sure how to bring it up. I’ve gotta just bite the bullet, though—we’re turning into a dang yeti.

Toothbrush/Toothpaste. TOP PRIORITY.

And so on. I feel better now, knowing that it’s all real. I’m still here, this is all me. Just to quiet the last little twinge of paranoia, I try the door—unlocked, of course. This door doesn’t even have a lock.

There’s just one other thing missing.

“Where’s Nipper?” I wonder aloud.

“Still with Fargo, remember?” Maggie replies. “He took care of the little guy after we got disappeared and we haven’t had a chance to pick him up.”

“Oh, right.” I knew that, didn’t I?

“Why are you shuffling around poking all our shit, anyway?”

I blink. “Uh...I don’t know. Was that me?”

“It sure as fuck wasn’t me,” she scoffs. “You’re acting weird.”

“Sorry. I guess I’m still kind of waking up,” I reply with a shrug. “I had a really weird dream.”

“Oh, Goddess, please do not start talking about your dreams, I hate it when people do that. It’s so fucking boring.”

I couldn’t disagree more. Dreams are always so fascinating! I just wish I could remember mine more often. Maybe not this one, though, given how shaken I was when I woke up. Although it feels like it might have been important, somehow? I’m a bit torn, but the thought of trying to recall a nightmare isn’t super exciting, so I’ll just take the path of least resistance and let it go for now. Maybe something will remind me later.

“Well, it’s your day, Mags,” I say before yawning.

“Yeah, and what a coincidence that we fucking slept through half of it,” she gripes. “We should have a rule about all-nighters.”

“How about, just ‘don’t do that’?” I suggest. “It’s not good for us.”

“You’re the one who did it, dumbass!”

I wince. “Yeah, my bad. But it worked, didn’t it? Now we can work out our next set of classes.”

“Not me,” she huffs. “I’m still way behind on this tamer class.”

“Do you want to wait until tomorrow to do that, then?” I ask, though even I’m getting a bit antsy about putting it off now.

“Nah, we can still sort that out, but let’s go pick up Nipper first. I miss the little guy.”

Sounds good to me. I’m still all sweaty from sleeping in under the afternoon sun, so I throw on a nice light outfit with lots of room to breathe. In this heat, I can really appreciate the Fa’aun preference for loose, breezy clothing.

Fargo’s easy enough to find—for a guy who’s built his whole identity around an adventurous spirit, he’s got a surprisingly rigid routine. On Maggie’s days, we’d usually already be hanging out with him in the usual courtyard by now, and he’s not the type of person to break routine just because we did. Sure enough, I find him sitting in the shade of the courtyard’s only tree, humming a familiar tune from one of the performers at the party while Taaka and Nipper wrestle with each other nearby.

He glances up as we approach and greets us with a cheerful wave. “Miss Maev! I was starting to worry you wouldn’t be coming by today.”

“Sorry,” I mutter under my breath, focusing on Nipper.

As soon as I get within his range, Nipper stops what he’s doing and snaps his head towards me. I swear he’s getting faster—I barely have time to kneel down and offer a hand before he zips across the grass and slithers his way up my arm, coiling around it tightly enough to be uncomfortable and gently gnawing on my fingers.

“Aww, did you miss me?” I croon, giving him a gentle pat on the head.

To my surprise, I get much stronger feedback from [Empathic Nature] than usual, giving me an intense feeling of loss and longing, tinged with relief.

“Oh shit, he really did miss me...”

“Of course he did,” Fargo chuckles, wandering over. “They may not have classes like we do, but they still gain attributes. Your bond has influenced his growth—magical creatures like Nipper are particularly malleable like that.”

“Aw man,” I grumble. “We fucked up a perfectly good worm. He’s got mommy issues now.”

Fargo doubles over in laughter. “Haha! That’s one way to put it, I suppose. I see you’re back to your usual self.”

I frown and shoot him an irritated glance before flicking my eyes back down to Nipper. “We don’t have a usual self. Least of all me.”

“Apologies,” he says, holding up his hands. “I didn’t mean anything by it—I’ve only known you as Maggie, so Allie took me by surprise.”

“She does that,” I mutter darkly. “Too bad. You’re stuck with the worst Maev—Allie’s grounded.”

“I’m what?!” she protests.

“Oh?” Fargo says. “Does that have something to do with why I had to babysit Nipper yesterday?”

“Yup,” I confirm with a nod. “Dumb bitch got us [wasted] during the party after promising not to drink too much.”

“That was mostly Evie!” Allie complains.

I ignore her. I’m not stupid enough to let her rehash an argument that she already lost to Vi.

“I see,” Fargo says. “I take it from context that [wasted] means drunk. Did something happen?”

Wow, he nailed that pronunciation. “Yeah, we got kidnapped.”

“Oh! Blood and acid, are you alright?”

“We’re fine. Didn’t even have to murder anybody this time.”

“This—?!” He shakes his head. “Never mind, I’m not asking. So this skill of yours—you can’t control the actions of your other self?”

“No more than you can control Taaka’s,” I reply. “Probably less, since she doesn’t fucking lie to you.”

“I can’t tell if you’re actually still upset about this, or if this is just you being typically crabby,” Allie groans.

Heh. Little does she know—it’s both.

“How odd,” Fargo muses. “I’ve never seen a skill quite like that. What advantages does it provide? If it causes you problems, have you considered dropping the class? How would that even work? You implied that neither of you are the original, does that mean there’s another who is?”

Holy fucking shit, dude! It’s not like these are new questions, but they’re not exactly easy to answer, nor any of his business.

“Mostly it gives me the advantage of random strangers asking me annoying personal questions,” I deflect. “Cool, huh?”

“Alright, point taken,” he chuckles. “Though I’m hurt that you still consider me a stranger.”

I roll my eyes. “Fuck off. I’m only talking to you at all because you’re a friend. I wouldn’t trust you with Nipper if you weren’t.”

“Well, that’s good to know. Goddess only knows what sort of hurdle someone has to cross for you to look at them, then.”

“It’s not as if I can’t,” I argue, glancing up to meet his gaze...for like half a second before turning away again. “I just don’t like it.”

People reveal too much with their faces. I’d rather not see what sort of expressions they make when talking to me.

“Fair enough.” He shrugs. “It’s a bit late to get started, but shall we run Nipper through a few exercises anyway? Routine helps with reinforcement, and it might ease his stress as well.”

“I’d like to, but I promised we’d sort out our class upgrades today.”

And unlike someone, I’m a girl of my word.

“You’ve mastered your tamer class already?” he asks. “I could help you choose a suitable match for it.”

Oh fuck, I shouldn’t have said that. Uh, damage control.

“No, our other class,” I lie.

Fargo furrows his brow. “Didn’t you say you were planning to make taming part of your core class?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re not going to be able to do that if you upgrade it—both grade and tier have to match for class fusions.”

“Oh right.”

...

This is awkward. He’s just staring at me, as if waiting for further explanation, but there’s absolutely nothing I can say without digging myself deeper. Goddess damn it, Allie’s supposed to be the blabbermouth, not me. Fuck it—nuclear option.

“Okay, bye!”

I turn around and flee the courtyard, ignoring his confused stammering and calls for me to come back. Let’s see Allie pull off that maneuver.